Soapy Water
by lslines
Summary: A past, a present, and a future together, filled with smiles. [Yami no Yuugi x Yami no Bakura] [Mixed genres]
1. Drunken Misery

**Drunken Misery**

Written for the 30smiles livejournal community

Theme no. 21; Do I know you?

1/35

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The air was hot and stifling, and it stank of cheap alcohol and sex, the lights flickered over head, people sat in either groups of three or alone, talking barely enough for there to be an undercurrent of conversation and it should've been a picture of angst and self-pity. But the soft notes of jazz that drifted from the keyboard in the corner took something away from the image. Bakura didn't much care though; he'd bought his own angst and could wallow in his self-pity. The atmosphere of the bar itself didn't much matter to him; whether it was that ghetto-ish place on the other side of town, a dirty house-made-bar on the corner where the lighting was dark and ordinary people told strange stories, or even this hole, they were all the same. The barmen kept to themselves, the alcohol was weak and tasted like horse piss, the lights were always flickering and the scent of sweat was everywhere. And, of course, there would always be a musician playing _somewhere_.

He drained the rest of his beer and managed not to grimace. He was right; horse piss. Not that he cared anymore. He was drunk enough that it didn't matter. The piano stopped and the faint buzz of small talk died away as someone turned on the microphone. An announcement was made, something about a different performer starting, the same old thing as every night. He was vaguely aware of someone pulling out the stool next to him.

"What'll it be?" The bartender's gruff tones caused him to glance sideways at the newcomer. He watched sleepily as the guy slumped into the seat like he'd been here an age, and asked for a mug of champagne. The bartender didn't seem to find the order as strange as Bakura himself did, and just nodded, getting Bakura a refill he hadn't asked for as he served the other guy. But that was what happened when you occupied the same chair every night for a week. People started to remember you, notice you. They'd leave your seat alone and sit somewhere else. The bartender would stop trying to make conversation and wouldn't bother asking what you wanted, instead just having it ready for when you arrived. Bakura realised he'd need to change bars again. Maybe tomorrow he could go to that little place down on Renaissance Avenue…

He took another mouthful of beer and then watched the newcomer again. He sat hunched in his seat with his fingers curved around the handle of his mug, arms spread as if to take up as much space as possible on the bench. His face was pale and there were grey smudges under his eyes. Crimson eyes, his blurry mind noticed. And weird hair. Three colours in it, black and magenta, in spikes around his head with bangs of gold in front of his face. He sat silently and watched as he drank down the mug, images bubbling in his memory. The glowing eyes, strange hair, lithe body… He shook his head and rested his cheek on his folded arms, still watching him.

The man with the funny hair glanced at him. "Can I help you?" His voice was deep and the memories began flashing at him faster.

"Nah," Bakura grinned and stuck out a hand. "Name's Bakura. What's yours?"

"…Atemu," With some reluctance, he shook the offered hand. "Why do you want to know?

"Huh? Oh, no reason. It's just…" His brow furrowed as he tried to wade through his murky consciousness, towards the memories that lingered on the edge of his mind. "I've just got this feeling I know you… Do I? Know you, I mean?"

A sad smile played across Atemu's face, but Bakura didn't see it having already passed out. Pushing a few notes at the bartender to pay for their drinks, he lifted Bakura bridal style off his seat and carried him out the door.

"Come on, let's get you home." He wandered through the dark streets towards the hotel on the corner. Checking the unconscious man in and paying for him in advance, he carried him up to the room. He left him on the bed, fully dressed, and placed the key on the dresser. He pulled the door closed behind him as he left, and stood outside the door for a moment.

"Maybe…" He muttered to the empty hallway, "next time we meet it will be under different circumstances. And maybe the next time you'll remember me."

And he walked down the staircase and down the street, while Bakura slept fitfully in a hotel bed, still stumbling towards the memory of a man he'd once loved.

--

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	2. Thief of Cake

**Thief of Cake**

Written for the 30smiles livejournal community

Theme no. 9; Citric scent

2/35

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"You smell like lemons," Atemu turned at the statement Bakura leaning against the doorframe.

"What?"

"You smell," Bakura repeated, "like lemons. And oranges. And pastry." He wrinkled his nose, and walked across the kitchen to pull a piece of orange skin out of his hair. Atemu scowled and turned back to the sink.

"Yeah, I probably do. What about it?"

"Nothing, really, just telling you. Oh, and Yuugi said to tell you… What was it? Oh yes; 'don't forget to take the cake out of the fridge before Bakura gets home or else he'll find it before—shit, Bakura!' "

Atemu turned around to find himself just inches away from Bakura's face.

"Uh…"

He blinked as a smudge of orange cream was wiped on his nose. And then kissed off.

"Bakura!" He flushed bright red.

"Happy birthday to me!" With a grin, he turned and skipped out of the kitchen, the citrus cake in his hands.

"Bakura!" Atemu yelled again, still up to his elbows in bubbles of detergent. "Bring back that cake!"

--

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	3. Silent Promise

**Silent Promise**

Written for the 30smiles livejournal community

Theme no. 3; No promises

3/35

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There were no promises between them, Yugi knew. There never had been. No promises because they were never sure they could keep them, and that would be the equivalent of lying. It was useless trying to convince them otherwise because after believing something for three thousand years you couldn't just change your mind. So he just laughed at the futile efforts made by the others, bar Ryou, to get them to make any agreement with each other.

But today… Today was different. He watched through the crack in the door as the sat on the bed, whispering to each other. They swapped their necklaces in silence , precious blue gems glinting in the light that oozed in the window, and touched foreheads. Then smiled.

With a bemused expression, Yugi walked back down the stairs. Maybe there was just _one_ promise between them.

Not that they'd ever admit it.

--

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	4. Paying the Price

**Paying the Price**

Written for the 30smiles livejournal community

Theme no. 13; Hair Ribbons

4/35

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"I am not wearing these things. No. Absolutely not." And Atemu's right eye twitched.

Bakura laughed, then smiled at him. "Why not? I'm wearing them aren't I?" and he twirled around like a ballerina in a neat pirouette, skirt fanning out around him. Blue and purple and red ribbons stood out vividly against the white of his hair. "Besides, you lost the bet."

"I only lost because of you," Atemu huffed, "and I honestly don't see why _this_ was the price of loosing."

"It's not that bad. In fact, I think these 'skirts' are quite comfortable. They remind me of what we wore in Egypt."

"I'm not complaining about the skirt, Bakura, or the shirt, or even these _ridiculous _shoes. But I am drawing the line at hair ribbons." He dropped the offending strips of material on the dresser, his face in a mask of disgust. "There is nothing you can do to get me to wear those things."

"Oh yeah?" The smile dropped from his face, to be replaced by a dangerous looking smirk.

"Yeah," Atemu realized his mistake just too late, and paled. He whirled away from the dresser, staring at his lover in horror. "Oh no, Bakura, don't you dare…"

Bakura advanced on him, now grinning like the psychopath he was, and managing to quite nicely pull off 'deranged and dangerous' in a skirt and kitten heels. Atemu let out a squeaky noise that sounded a lot like 'eep'. The door swung shut.

Ten minutes later, the two of them were slowly turning around for inspection by the girls. Bakura, smiling happily and fingering a red ribbon that dangled in his face, and Atemu, face stained pink and sulking clenched his fists at his sides.

Anzu was the first to pull away from them. "Perfect!" She cried happily, clasping her hands together. Mai and Shizuka stepped away a moment later, and they nodded in agreement.

"Yes, it's wonderful!"

"I still can't believe how well Bakura can pull off my heels,"

"Red is so his colour,"

"Maybe we should put some gloss on Atemu,"

"What!" Atemu blanched.

"Oh yes! The way he's pouting, it would work so well!"

"Hey, go back to the thing about lip gloss!" Bakura was laughing so hard his sides hurt at the sight of Atemu's wide eyes and panicked expression.

"Then it's settled. Shi, Mai, take him and gloss him up!" Anzu snapped her fingers and the two other girls gave her mock salutes before grabbing an arm each and dragging the ex-pharaoh back to the bedroom.

As the slamming of a door cut off the weak protests of the man, Anzu turned to Bakura, smile tugging at her mouth. "Bakura, you were quite right about this; best revenge I've ever had. And thanks for you're help. How much do I owe you?"

He smirked at her. "Nothing; the sight of his face is worth enough. That'll teach him."

"Yes it will. I honestly can't thank you enough for this though."

"Well, if you want, I wouldn't turn down money. Say, twenty-five?"

Anzu sighed. "You really are a thief, aren't you."

"Thief?" He curtsied at her, "Oh yes. That I most certainly am." He threw a look over his shoulder at the closed door and smiled again. "And let no one forget it."

--

Review?

And if anyone knows what the skirt-things they wear in Egypt are called, I'd appreciate if you could tell me. Thanks.


	5. Dreaming of Memories

**Drunken Misery**

Written for the 30smiles livejournal community

Theme no. 29; Still in my Lips

5/35

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It pressed against the back of his eyes, making itself known even when he had his eyes open. But when he closed his eyes, he could _see_ it—he wasn't quite sure what it was, actually, but it was there anyway. A vision of himself and someone else, someone with short white hair that sparkled in the sun and ruffled gently in the wind, standing back to back beside an oasis. It was completely impossible to make out any features of the other person thanks to the glare of the sun on the water. And it was driving him crazy.

It was like it was someone else's memory, something that shouldn't be there, but he was positive it was his. It was his memory, he was sure it was, except for the fact he couldn't remember it. Like a dream, it frayed at the edges when he tried to focus on the details. But it didn't stop him trying, because the expression on his face was just so… happy… He was smiling, a vague, lovesick smile, and if this person made him so happy, he wanted to know who he was, damnit! If this person could make him smile like that then he wanted to be able to relive the moments they must have shared, to view the heaven that he could feel he'd lived in. Sometimes he got the idea that if he were just to lick his lips he could taste that heaven. That it was still lingering on his lips.

But he couldn't.

So instead he dreams fitfully of something he knows he's had but doesn't remember the taste of and wakes up with thoughts of Yugi's British friend in his head and doesn't understand.

Loved it? Hated it? Review, please.

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And I need to just say that the inspiration from this came from Son Goku of Saiyuki and the Nickelback song "Savin' Me."


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